The Extraordinary Life of Bree
by arahadi
Summary: That one time when a clueless girl thrown back in time and meet a bunch of badass paratroopers.
1. Chapter 1

Her name is Bree, short for Brianna. A regular redhead, who works as a social media expert at a prestigious PR consultant firm in New York. Her colleagues are mixed of professional hipsters (who most of them are refused to be called hipster, but secretly wants to be identified as one) and computer science nerds who rule the social media world, and after working her ass off for two years, she became their supervisor.

Have you heard about that drug scandal involving a certain young adult celebrity from a country neighboring US of A who dump his sweet girlfriend and then had an affair with a stripper?

How about that one time when a Senator's son got caught in bed with his bodyguard in Vegas?

No?

Or have you ever wondered why a teenager suddenly became the next 'it' girl, had thousands subscriber on YouTube and suddenly became the next co-star for a handsome movie star in only months?

Yep. That's how good Bree and her team are.

But she's also a major klutz. Her sister, Jane, can only sigh in exasperation when she got a call from Bree.

See…Bree is at the hospital. She has fallen from a stairs while jogging in Central Park and sprained her something. The stairs has only two steps.

"Which limb now?" Jane asks.

"My left hand. I saved my ankle but I had to use my left hand so I didn't brained myself on the pavement." Bree says.

"Pity." Jane says dryly. "But it's good though. Your brain still intact so you can call a taxi with your right hand, ask the driver to haul your ass back to our apartment with your mouth, grab your money with your right hand, and pay the driver with your right hand."

"Bitch"

"Takes one to know one"

"Touché. See ya at home. Bring some Chinese. Egg rolls are preferable. Love ya, Sis"

When Jane arrives that night at their apartment, she is welcomed with a shriek like this: "Omigoooddd, Jane! I think I'm in love.", complete with a weird dance (or strange wriggling, to be exact) since the one who shriek is splattered all over the couch.

"You meet that handsome doctor again? It's not healthy to deliberately fall from the stairs just to see that doctor again, Bree." Jane says with a raise on her eyebrow, followed with a condescending stare while making silent judgement about Bree's life. Bree hates that stare.

Jane's concern is rewarded with a flying pillow to her head.

"Am not!" Bree pouts. "But today, I got lucky. Handsome Doctor wearing a blue shirt under his doctor coat…with one button open so I can see his collar bone! I can see chest hair! CHEST! HAIR! And I know his name, Jane! Albert Mercier, Ph.D. aaahhhh…Doctor Mercier... with sexy accent." And with that, Bree sighs and again lost in her fantasy world where she's talking in French, the language of love, with said Doctor. Bree doesn't speak French in real life.

"Whatever." Jane says.

Bree and Jane have lived together since their parents died five years ago. The sisters are so different in personality; many people didn't believe they are siblings. Jane is more resigned (geeky nerdy cat-person-y kind of girl, as Bree always says) and dedicated her life for academic world ("How can you spend your time reading books about a war that happened seventy years ago?" "Because the past will always affecting our decision in our present and future. People who never learn for the past, will make the same mistake." "Save it for your undergraduate students, Jane.").

Bree, on the other hand, is never interested in anything related to studying (let alone studying stories of already dead people. Bree even once thought to sue people who publish text books because text books can cause lower-back pain) and a self-proclaimed social butterfly. But in the other hand, Bree can be the evidence of severe case of epic spasticness and foot-in-mouth disease, especially in front of the gender of male kind she found attractive.

"Did you embarrass yourself on the process of knowing said doctor's name?" Jane asks while turns on her laptop and starts typing her doctorate thesis.

"Well…um…just a little. At least he's not running to the door in terror. And no panic attack this time. That's always a good sign, right?" Bree says.

Jane sighs "How you can be genius in you work but can be an utter idiot in front of a man you like?"

"Story of my life." Bree mumbled. "Okay…enough with my miserable love story…which does not exist …By the way how's the hot librarian?"

"Hot librarian's name is Derek. And we're dating now."

"Aww…congrats, Sis!" Bree claps her hand, only to wince because…yeah...sprained wrist. "Derek's sooo much better that that awfully douchey Ken-doll ex-boyfriend of yours. You know…You and Derek should make those couple t-shirt with 'Talk nerdy to me' on the front" Bree continues.

Jane's bitch-please face is a wonder to behold. "We're not nerds! We're intellectual badass."

Bree makes a gaging sound.

The bickering ensues back and forth for another hour until Bree's phone goes off. Bree frowns at the caller ID. It's her boss.

"John? You do know that it's already near my bed time, right? I don't like to talk about work only 30 minutes before my much needed beauty sleep." She says.

"Sorry Bree. It's urgent. Our beloved client number 364..."

Bree groaned "Goddammit. What did he do this time? I told you that kid will give us just more trouble. I reserve my right to use the 'termination for convenience' clause in our contract."

John sighs on the phone "I know…I had clearance from the higher up this will be our latest job with that menace. Can you please go back to the office now? We had a task force meeting to handle this."

Becca frowns at that "Task force? How fucked up…um…forgive my French, Bossman…How…"

John scoffs "Let's just say it's a 'misunderstanding' of laws" Wow…the air quote is heavy with that one "it's like the interstate laws versus state laws…and apparently federal laws supersedes state laws. And let's pray it's not involving any international law or some shit, because apparently, a German tourist is involved. Their consulate is already being a pain in my ass." _What the hell?_ "You can say it's a great learning experience of the legal system. Since you're the only person we had who can speak German, and you're our most valuable PR guru, we need you ASAP to unfuck this clusterfuck. Hello…Bree…are you still there?"

"Um…yeah…I'm still here. I forgive your French, by the way. Dammit, John. What do you want me to do? That's a lot of damage I need to fix. And I sprained my wrist, John." Bree whines shamelessly. She's in pain. She has all the right to be dramatic. She sees Jane rolls her eyes. Bree throws another pillow to her.

"Which hand this time?" John said flatly.

Becca stares his phone as if she can burn her boss through it. It's a testament of Becca's clumsiness that even her Boss takes her accident as a mundane event.

"Fine! But I want a raise after this." Bree snaps.

"Deal. Just get here in 30 minutes, okay." And the phone cuts off.

Bree sighs dramatically.

"Do you really have to go? I really don't like the idea you have to go this late just to clean up some fucked up kid." Jane says.

"Well…at least this will be the last time we handle that kid. I might have to spend a couple of nights in the office. Is it okay?" Bree says…feeling tired already. It's gonna be a hellish job.

Jane sighs "Just don't forget to eat, okay? And Red Bull, microwave popcorn, Snickers, Reese's and the likes are not staple food."

Bree smiles and kiss her sister's cheek "I will. Thanks, Sis." and goes to her room to change.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in her coat, scarf and beanie (it's still chilly, okay) and bringing her duffle bag, Bree leaves her apartment. She only left the apartment for 5 minutes when her phone vibrates and there's a message from Jane that says 'Tell your Boss that if you come back home with physique resemblance zombie, I will kill him.' Bree smiles and replies 'Aww…you miss me already. Will do. Love ya, Jane. Don't eat all my granola bars.'

She decided to take the subway, since it's not very late. There are only couples of people on the subway, so Bree decided to stay alert and not use her earphone like usual. The ride itself is uneventful, but right after Bree walked out the station, she feels that she's been followed. She speeds up her steps, and after a while, she can feel that she's not being followed anymore.

But when she's passing an alley, somebody pulls and slams her face first to the wall. The robber holds her hand in her back. Her sprained wrist hurts like hell. And she can feel something sharp is pushed into her back.

"P..P..Please. Don't hurt me." Bree stutters "I h-have money. It's in my bag. You can have it. J-just don't hurt m-me." She tries to control her breath. Panic attack won't do anything good.

 _Jane_ , she thinks. _Stay safe for Jane_. _Stay safe for Jane._ She can't leave Jane alone. They only have each other.

The robber doesn't say anything. One of his hands starts rummaging Bree's bag. He founds Bree's wallet and when finds out Bree only got some cash in it, push the sharp thing deeper into her back.

"We're gonna find ATM and you'll give me more money. Move!"

"Okay…okay" Bree quickly agrees.

But apparently, her brain decided that it's time to be clumsy again. Somehow, when she turns around, her hand knocks the robber's mask off.

They both stare at each other, too shocked to move.

Then the robber start to look panicked because Bree sees his face. He grabs the front of Bree's coat and throws her into the street.

It happens so fast, Bree's brain can't understand what the hell just happened until she sees light from the corner of her eyes…then hears a screeching sound…a deafening sound of a horn…follows with an impact that feels like she's being hit by a train.

And then blackness.

* * *

The first thing she feels is the cold. Meat-locker cold.

The second is the smell. Like bunch-of-dudes-who-don't-take-showers-for-weeks kind of smell. But weirdly enough, she also smells pine and fresh snow.

The third thing that comes to her senses is the sounds. Mostly silent, this is weird, because New York never this quiet even in the night. There are some whispers. Men whispering, to be exact.

"She just fell into my foxhole." One man says.

Foxhole? Is that like rabbit hole? Like in Alice?

"Her clothing is strange. Not like WAC uniform or even civilian. But she's definitely a civilian. What in the name of God a civilian do in the front line? Do you think she's a German spy?" Says another one. His voice sounds fatherly.

Wait. What?

"I don't think so. I checked her bag. It's full of strange things and clothes. But it's all American stuff…I think."

Bree tries to open her eyes. And suddenly regret it, because she stares directly into the sun.

"Ow" she mutters.

"Take it easy, Miss." Says another voice. He got a soothing accent that reminds her to someone familiar. He helps her sit up and after a while, Bree can open her eyes.

"How is she, Gene?" asks Fatherly Voice who apparently a tall, handsome, read head guy. His face looks trustworthy.

Soothing Accent…Gene…says "So far no signs of injury, Captain Winters. Her left wrist already bandaged. I never saw this kind of bandage though. It's…advance. I also have to check for any concussion." Even Gene's face looks familiar.

"We knock our heads pretty hard when she fell on my hole, Dick." says First Voice who apparently in first name basis with Captain Winters. He got mischievous eyes. "She got one hell of a hard head for a woman."

 _Hey! Rude much?_

"I sprained my wrist. And my head is not hard, mister. It's awesome." Bree mutters. Okay that's lame. She might have a concussion.

Captain Winters chuckles "You got a match there Lew."

Lew? What kind of lame name is Lew?

When she hears the three men stifle their laugh, she apparently said that out loud.

"My name is Captain Lewis Nixon, Miss."

"Captain." Bree mutters…suddenly aware of the military rank and lingo…and that the men wearing uniforms and with guns that look some kind of…old school? Definitely not modern guns. And she's in some kind of forest. She looks at the Captain "Captain?" Captain Winters nods. "And you?" She asks Gene.

"I'm the medic, Miss. My name is Eugene Roe. And you?"

"I'm…I'm Bree. Briana Sullivan. Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" her voice starts to squeak in panic.

"Uh…you fell into my foxhole, Bree. We also want to know what a civilian like you did in the front line." Captain Nixon says.

"Civilian? Front line? What…Where am I?"

Gene says gently "We're in Ardennes Forest, Miss. In Belgium? Do you remember anything?"

"B-Belgium? As in Europe? But I don't recall there's a war in Europe." Bree says, confused.

Nixon frowns "But Europe has been in war since the Nazi invade Poland."

 _Nazi?! Holly hell…she's been thrown into the Second World War?!_

Bree stutters; desperately push the impending panic attack at bay "What year is it?"

It's Gene who answered "It's January. 1945"

It took a full minute for her brain to understand Gene's answer. When she finds her voice again, she shakily says "I'm from 2016. And I…I was in New York. I was going to go to my office when…" Bree pauses when she starts to remember "when I got robbed and then he pushed me into the street….And then I got hit by a…a car?…I think."

 _Oh God. Is she dead?_

Captain Winters frowns "2016? New York? But how…" He doesn't finish his sentence because something explodes above them.

Bree froze. Nixon and Winters expertly jump to a foxhole nearby while Gene drags her to another foxhole and then covers her body with his.

The panic attack comes in full force. She stars to hyperventilating and unable to move. Gene realizes what's happening when Bree's body starts to shakes violently and her breath is wheezing. He grabs her face and forces Bree to face him.

"Bree…Hey, Bree…listen to me. It's gonna be fine. I'm here. Breathe, Bree. Follow me. Breathe."

"J...Jane.." Bree gasps between breath "I'm dead and Jane is alone. S-She only g-got me."

"Your sister?" Gene guesses.

"Y-yes. A-and I left her. J-Jane…"

Gene wipes her tears she doesn't realized pouring form her eyes. "It's gonna be all right. Just breath, Bree. Focus on me."

Bree focuses on Gene's breathing and his eyes. Her panic attack subsides gradually but she's still shaking. After what feels like a million years, the barrage finally stopped but immediately followed with the shouts of 'Medic'.

"stay here, Bree. Gotta go." And he leaps from the hole.

Seconds later, Nixon jumps in. "Are you okay, Bree?"

Bree takes several deep breaths before she can answer. "No. I'm not okay. I'm time traveling. I thought it's only in the movies!"

"There are lots of movies about time traveling in the future?"

Bree eyes the Captain incredulously "Really? That's what you asked?"

Nixon shrugged "You want me to ask about the end result of this war? Okay. One: assuming that you're American from your weird belongings, it's safe to conclude that Germany or Japan not colonize America in your time. Thank God for that. Two: there's nothing good knowing the future before its time. It'll either make you lazy or even careless of what you do. Three: not to insult you or anything, but you don't looked like a person that paid attention in history class."

"Oh wow…that's very…"

"Smart?" Nixon winks "I know. I'm the best intel this Regiment has."

Bree chuckles "Very immodest of you."

Nixon smiles "There you go. You have to smile a lot. Come on. You can stay in our CP until we get you a ride to the city. I'll tell you anything you need to know."

* * *

During their walk, Nixon supplies a brief story about the war. Some of it Bree remembers from history class in high school. He also try to explain the structure of his unit, but after he saw that Bree getting more and more confused, he decided to summarize it with "So from Easy Company point of view, Colonel Sink is the stern but lovable grandpa. Winters is the Dad. I'm obviously the cool uncle. Speirs from the Dog Company is the creepy uncle. Dike is the uncle you want to kick right in his stupid ass. Don't tell anyone I said that. But I'm afraid someday his stupidness will cause too much death toll to this unit. Shames is the…eccentric uncle. But he's somewhat okay. Peacock is…I don't want to talk about him. He's a lost cause. Literally and metaphorically. And Buck is the cool uncle, like me. In conclusion, Easy is the best company in the ETO. You'll meet the others at chow."

At the CP, they find Winters is talking with a short guy wearing a backpack. When they got nearer, Bree can see that the guy is not wearing a backpack, but some big radio.

"Ah here they come." Winters says "George, I want you to meet Miss Briana Sullivan. Bree, this is Easy Company's radio man, George Luz."

"So you really come from the future, Miss?" George shakes her hand.

Bree nods "I guess that's what happened. To be honest, I'm still confused. And please call me Bree."

"And you can call me George. Or Luzzy, or Cupcake, or any confectionary based term of endearment of your choice. Joly Old Saint Luz at your service." He grins widely.

Bree decides that this guy looks like an elf. The mischievous kind of elf.

Nixon smirks "George is our resident clown, Bree. George, can you introduce Bree to the boys? Knowing you boys tendencies of gossiping like housewives, I'm pretty sure they already know there's a woman join us."

George shrugs "We're more like high schoolers before prom, Sir."

Winters glares at him but the Captain's lips twitches a bit "You're dismissed, George."

George walks her into a small clearing that apparently Easy's soup kitchen. Bree's not sure if soup kitchen is the right term in the Army, but she sees a tent that serves as the kitchen that wafting horrendous smell and the soldiers around it look like hobos. Badass hobos with various kinds of guns.

"Yeah…I know…we look like homeless." George says as if reading her mind, and after a thought, sniffs his armpit "and smell like one. But I assure you, you're safe with us. The Krauts won't touch you."

"Krauts?"

"That's what we called the Germans."

"Oh…okay."

The guys went silent when George and Bree arrive.

"Guys, this is Bree. We still don't know why and how she's here, but treat her with care as your own sister or I'll cut your dicks off. Captain Winters approve. So Bree…That's Bill Guarnere. Or gonorrhea. He used to think with his dick, instead with his brain. He's joined in the hips with that red head, Babe Heffron. His real name is Edward, but only the nuns called him Edward. I've once hoped that their combined stupidity would perhaps cancel each other out, but instead it's strengthening." And George expertly dodge a shoe that Bill thrown at him.

"And this scrawny Jew here is Joe Liebgott…his brain works ninety percent from caffeine." George continues.

"The other ten percent?" Bree asks.

"Sex"

"Aah…of course." Bree nods. Liebgott just winks and continue clean his gun.

"Hoobler over here…had a talent for projectile vomiting. The Spaghetti Incident of '42 was his biggest achievement."

"That's not spaghetti." A short man says, mid-tooth-brushing. "That's..."

"Army noodles with ketchup." George cuts in. "Yeah...yeah...I know. Geez… Italians are fanatic with their spaghetti. I'll tell you in details later, Bree. Meanwhile, this tooth-brushing midget is my soulmate. Frank Perconte. Say hi, Perco." George kick Perco's leg.

"Hi Bree." Perco says with a mouth full of foam.

"Jesus...you look like a dog with rabies." George says, followed by Perco flips him off as sophisticatedly as possible while tooth brushing. "That pretty Aryan perfection is Lieutenant Compton. We call him Buck. Those three stooges over there are Don Malarkey or Malark, Warren Muck or Skip and Alex Penkala or Penk. Huh…I just realized…you guys' nick names are like dog names." And again expertly dodges a rock (from Malark), a spoon (from Penk) and a peppered helmet (from Skip) that thrown at him.

"Wow…you're really good at this. Dodging things thrown at you." Bree says.

"Heh…I've been doing this since Toccoa." George shrugs nonchalantly and then adds when he sees Bree frowns in confusion. "That's where we're training to be the most badass paratrooper ever."

"Okay."

"You already meet Doc, right? Gene?"

"Yes…he…helped me."

"Right. He got this magic touch, don't you think?"

 _And voice…and eyes…_ "I guess." Bree says.

"Come on…let's get to the chow line. Joe Domingo cooks the best rancid ass beans in the whole world. You can use my extra cup and spoon."

George keeps introducing the rest of Easy men while they stand in the chow line. Suffice to say, George has a unique way to introduce the men of Easy. Easy men are brash with words, but act gentlemanly to Bree, considering they've spent weeks without seeing women.

The somewhat relax atmosphere is ruined when a man comes and says in an arrogant tone "Am I hear it right? A woman just come out of nowhere and join us?"

"Lieutenant Dike." Bree sees Lieutenant Compton…Buck…approaching the man. "Miss Bree already here with us."

Oh…so this is Lieutenant Dike. The one that Nixon want to kick right in his stupid ass. Bree can understand the reason now.

Dike snorts and makes a very judgmental stare to Bree "This is outrage. Her presence will corrupt the morals of the men."

 _Oh hell no!_

"Hey Mister!" Bree shouts; cannot resist herself anymore. "My boobs are not the enemy; the Krauts are. So why don't you channel your anger for overcompensating your micro-penis into formulating a useful strategy that won't kill your own men."

Her outburst is followed with various choking noises, muffled laughs and a very red faced Dike that stomping off after mumbling "I have to make a phone call."

George gleefully pats her shoulder and says "God, I like you, Bree."

* * *

A/N: Hi there...thx for reading. I really appreciate if you can leave some review. Since English is not my language and this work is not beta-ed, please poke me if you find mistakes so I can correct them. Cheers ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

Bree seriously can't imagine what these men would be after the war. She only got here for two days, but the horror she saw will give her nightmare for the rest of her life. It's like stuck in an ultra-real 4D experience of Dawn of the Dead. Gruesome deaths are daily sight. The men are coping by act it like "that kid got shot in the head and died in front of me, and now, the weather". But in actuality, they were deeply affected by the deaths. How can you forget your friends that have been on your side for two years and then saw them shredded to pieces in front of you? But they held their duty above all. There's determination in their eyes and movement. There's no "holy shit, what the hell am I doing here" whatsoever. They face Death together, in their youth. If anyone dies, he will do so surrounded by the very best friends he believes he will ever have.

In conclusion, these men, who most of them are in Bree's age (Winters is only 3 years older than her. There are some soldiers that are still teenagers, they don't even have chest hair yet) are brave beyond brave. Bree can finally understand Jane's passion on history. This act of bravery should not be forgotten.

Due to Allies' progress of the war, Bree cannot be transferred to Bastogne as Captain Winters originally planned. After a lengthy discussion with Colonel Sink ("You know any foreign language?" "I know German, Spanish and a little bit Italian, Sir." "Can you type fast?" "Yes, Sir. I don't even need autocorrect." "The hell is that?"), Bree was assigned as Captain Winters aide and translator. So here she is, stuck in the past, and find herself helping Captain Winters with translating stuff and other administration things. Is this the reason why she thrown back in time? Because Captain Richard Winters needs a translator and a secretary? Hilarious, life. Very funny.

"And it's called Administrative Assistant, Captain Winters. Not secretary." Bree says.

"Are people in the future always creating politically correct terms for all mundane things?"

"If these things are mundane, why don't you do it yourself, Sir?"

"Eh…no…I hate typing. Please help me?"

"Fine. I can't believe the purpose of this time travel is for me to become your personal Jarvis."

"My what?"

"Never mind"

However, Bree can't deny that she feels safe among Easy men. It's like she suddenly have dozens of big brothers she never had, in just one night. Overly protective brothers, sometimes. ("Of course we'll protect you, Bree. You're our lucky mascot." "Somehow I feel like being objectified"). She slept in a single cot in the Command Post and had a makeshift 'curtain' from tarpaulin for some privacy. It's a decent set up, all things considered. Luz gave her WAC uniforms for spare clothes and some "ladies stuff so you don't freak the guys when your monthly routine catches up. I got sisters. So I know how messy it is."

Today, Bree find herself in the CP, translating in an interrogation of German POW for Winters and Nixon. Winters usually pulls someone from the front line to take turn to be his runner or translator. Just few hours from the front line has proven to reduce the soldiers' stress level significantly. Actually, this time is Joe Liebgott's turn. But Captain Winters said that Joe was "getting too involved"

"I should know that Liebgott being Jewish will affect him when questioning the prisoners." Winters says.

"You sent a Jew to questioning a Nazi, Sir? That's…."

"Stupid...I know. The prisoner's lucky he still got complete set of fingers and toes. So…What did he say, Bree?"

Bree sighs "Well, Sir…There were a lot of German swear words….that must be farm animals involved. Well-hung farm animals, to be exact... Doing unspeakable things to people's moms, namely my mom, your mom, Captain Nixon's mom and also the President's mom. So in conclusion… too much motherfucking and the likes."

Nixon snorts "How polite and gentlemanly of him."

Bree eyed the prisoners with outmost disgust "No wonder Joe want to do all sadistic things to this Nazi. I can commiserate."

Winter sighs and then commands another soldier to take the prisoner back to his holding place. "So how's you holding up, Bree?"

"Well…Churchill once said if you're going through hell, keep going. So this is me…going…" she sigh "One step at a time."

"Dike still gives you troubles?" Nixon asks.

"Well…Not directly. He still speaks to me with his usual level of stupid. I think he talks bad about me behind my back to the boys. Even though I'm pretty sure the boys will never listen to him. I sometimes caught him smirking at me. And I really _really_ hate that smirk. I want to hit his rich little behind repeatedly. With a barb-wired baseball bat…or a machine gun…or a grenade. I'm not picky."

Nixon chuckles "Don't we all."

"Why can't you get rid of him? His stupidity will cost lives!" Bree says, frustrated. She understands shit about military, but even she can tell that Dike is not capable to lead his own ass, let alone to lead a company that said to be the best company of the European Theatre.

"He got backups in high places." Nixon says.

Bree huffs "You know what this this situation called in my time? The incompetent leading the unwilling to do the unnecessary. I'm not saying that Easy is 'unwilling' and did the 'unnecessary'. I know they put their duties for our country above all, but…"

"I know what you mean, Bree." Winters cuts her, smiling softly. He pats her shoulder in such a fatherly manner, Bree's anger dissipate a little. "I understand. Don't worry…"

Suddenly, a single shot ring through the woods.

Nixon reflexively brings Bree to the ground and covers her body with his. He has developed this habit since the day they met. It's like he is Bree's personal body guard slash over protective big brother.

"Sniper?" Nixon asks Winters.

"I don't know. Stay low. Don't move." Winter says.

And then they hear someone shout "Oh Jesus! It's Hoob. He's shoot!"

Another voice shouts "Sniper?" Bree thinks it's Buck.

The first voice answers "No…no…he shot himself."

Bree can hear Nixon whispers from above her "Oh God…"

* * *

Gene sits by himself that night at chow time, picking his food.

"Can I sit here?" Bree says.

Gene only nods and continues picking his food.

"Are you okay?" Bree asks.

"Not really." Gene says weakly. "Why the hell Hobbler has to put the Luger on his pocket? On his pants pocket, Bree. Holsters are created for this sort of thing. For safety reason. So the pistol doesn't fired by itself. We lose a good shooter...for a silly mistake…." Gene closes his eyes and drops his face into his palm. "And because I was not fast enough finding his wound." He adds.

"Hey…don't be too hard to yourself. I heard when Sergeant Lipton report to Captain Winters and Nixon. It's dark and Hoobler's wearing too many layers of clothes. And the bullet unfortunately cut his leg main artery. There's nothing you can do."

"I know. But still…" he sighs heavily before he continues "You know…I don't know why the Army appointed me as a medic. I would choose to become a machine gunner, honestly. At least I could have a gun and kill the Krauts. You know…channel my frustration or something like that."

"You don't have a gun?" Bree asks in disbelieve.

"No. Combat medics don't carry a personal weapon."

"So you just…running around in battlefield under heavy fire…without a gun?"

"Well…According to the Geneva Convention, knowingly firing at a medic wearing clear insignia is a war crime."

"And you believe the Krauts will comply to that?" Bree scoffs.

"Some of them." Gene shrugged. "Like in Brecourt, I heard from Malark, the Krauts stop shooting at him because they think he's a medic. But when they're aware that Malark were groping the dead bodies because he's looking for a Luger, they're start firing at him again." Gene smiles fondly "What a crazy Mick."

Bree laughs "O my God. Really?"

Gene nods "Yes. The Krauts are slightly better that the Japs on this thing. From the rumors I've heard, the Japs clearly targeting the medics because if one medic down, there will be 10 soldiers that will die from their wounds. So I guess I'm somewhat lucky for not being sent to the Pacific Theater, right? Honestly, I wonder if all these shits are worth it." He laughs bitterly.

Even though Bree is not interested in history, she knows enough that Nazi and the Japanese Empire were equally brutal in this war. Holocaust, massacres and forced-labor that revealed after the war are the some proofs of their brutality. But she decided to keep this information to herself, because she's afraid if she said anything about the result of this war, it will change the future.

"Believe me, Gene, what you do right now, is important. Because this war, we called it World War Two in my time, is a reliably black and white conflict: good vs. evil as clear as day. We can't let the Axis win. You'll find out why later." Bree says carefully.

Gene smiles softly "I believe you, Bree."

"So…shall we talk about a lighter topic? Do you have a girlfriend, Gene?" Bree asks.

Gene's blush already tells the answer. "Um…yeah. I have."

"Booooyy…you betta tell Momma Bree the details!" Bree grin maniacally.

Gene's laugh for a full minute before he can answer "Ohh..God…It's been a while since I can laugh like that. Thanks Bree.. About the girl…well..I met this girl in Albourne, England. That's where Easy were stationed before D-Day, you see. She said her name is Maxine. She was assigned to work in a munitions factory. She wasn't very impressed with me at first, but I was persistent. And one day I followed her to her boarding house."

"Damn, Doc…You got it bad. That's romantic border line creepy though." Bree teases.

Gene chuckles "I guess so. But she's so strikingly beautiful, Bree. I was hopelessly falling in love with her. And George said that I should do it."

"And you followed _his_ advice?" Bree asks incredulously.

Gene snorts "Ha…Good point. Although at that time it sounds reasonable. Anyway, when I knocked on the door, the woman who opened the door, apparently the landlady, said that there's no girl named Maxine in the house."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. After I told the landlady about what Maxine looked like, she said 'oh..that's must be Vera.' So turns out it was popular for the British girls to not reveal their real names to the Yanks." Gene smiles. "Long story short, I convinced her that I was looking for a serious relationship, not just fooling around, and I…uh…courted her during my stay in Aldbourne. I met her family and I love them. I think they love me too."

"You're Eugene Roe. Easy's Medic extraordinaire. It's hard not to love you, Doc." Bree says sincerely.

"I hope so. We…planned to get married, you know. We've set the date. It's supposed to be June 6th last year."

"June 6th? Last year...so it's mean June 6th 1944? But that's…"

"D-Day. Yeah…She showed up in the church that day, while I was jumping into combat. None of us know the exact date of the invasion and I wasn't able to write to Vera when I found out."

"Oh…Gene…I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Bree. We've been wrote letters to each other since then. Thankfully, she and her family understand my circumstances, and we decided to plan a new wedding date as soon as this war over."

"Well that's good, Gene."

"Yeah…I just hope the war in the Pacific will also coming to an end. Because there's a possibility we will be sent there to help the Marines. Honestly, I told her not to wait for me and she refused. But what if I die? She deserves to be happy, Bree."

"Well…waiting is a sign of true love and patience. Anyone can say 'I love you' but not everyone can wait and prove it's true. She's willing to wait for you. That is a sign of true love. So let's just hope for the best, shall we?" Bree smiles.

"I'll try. Oh…Do you want to see her picture?"

"Of course."

Gene then shows her a picture of him and a black haired girl with a beautiful smile. Bree frowns. The girl's face seems familiar. Especially the way she lifts the corner of her mouth when she smiles.

"This will sound weird, Gene. But when I first saw you, your face and mannerism…feels like familiar to me. I feel the same thing when I see this photo. Vera's smile reminds me to someone. But I can't remember who."

Gene frowns "Really? That's odd."

"I know, right? Well I guess that's another big question in my ever-expanding list of 'what-the-hell-is-happening'." She sighs tiredly.

* * *

The 'knitting circle' is having their regular 'discussion session' again. It means that George, Frank, Joe, Bill, Babe and Bree gather together to exchange stories of the day. A.k.a gossiping.

"Dike gave some bullshit command again. You cannot imagine the immensity of the fuck I do not give to that dumbass." George grumbles. "There were various levels of 'are you shitting me' faces during that briefing. The most prominent one is Bill's and Foley's."

"You can't blame me. Man, that guy is a freak love child of a donkey and a chicken. But on the good side, Peacock was sent home for a 30-days furlough. At lease it lessens the dumb level in this company." Bill says.

"You have to thank Captain Nixon for that." Bree says "It's supposed to be his ticket home. But he gave it to Peacock because Captain Nixon said, may I quote, 'I've seen the states, I grew up there. That's why I came to Europe. Just wish they've told me there was a war on.'"

The boys snicker at that. Babe says "God bless Captain Nixon. And to think he's willing to freeze his ass off with us while he could stay at home, since his family is very rich."

"Really?" Bree asks.

"How do you think that place called Nixon in New Jersey got its name?" Joe says. "It's because Captain Nixon's grandfather build a chemical company there. And Captain Nixon is the only heir."

"Wow...he's that loaded?"

"I'm gonna assume that 'loaded' is a modern term of very rich, so…yeah…he's loaded. Old money, they said."

"He's married, Bree. Do not seduce him, okay." George winks at her.

Bree slaps the back of his head as per custom. "Eff you, George. He's like my brother."

"Argh…Jeeesus…I use this head for thinking, woman! Rude much?!"

"Because when someone annoys you, it takes 42 muscles to frown but it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and bitchslap the mother fucker in the head. I'm just being efficient." Bree reasons.

"Hear...hear" the boys nod their agreement.

George mumbles something that sounds like "this is conspiracy"

"Anywhooo…..Do you have a boyfriend, Bree?" Babe asks.

"Not at the moment." Bree sighs as she remembers the handsome Doctor Mercier.

"Aaaahhh….I know that look. You fancying someone, don't you?" Bill says eagerly.

Bree can fell she's blushing "Um…kinda. He's a doctor. We met twice at the hospital, thanks to my clumsiness." Bree points her bandaged wrist. It's not hurting anymore. Gene said that the bandage can be removed in two days.

"Let me give you some advice in romance department, kid." Bill says.

"Kid?" Bree snorts, very un-ladylike. "You only one year older than me."

"I'm more experienced in these things!" Bill snaps.

"Give him a break, Bree. He really is a love expert." George says. "You see…Bill was the epitome of Playboy. His sexcapades is legendary. He only taught with one head and it was not on his shoulder. He's properly disgusting. You've a right to cringe in his general direction. But Bill just recently got enlightenment after a couple of days of pissing-needles that he acquired after he visited a joint called Lulu's. He finally understood that feelings are best communicated through words and not dick semaphore."

Buck has to shout at them so they stop laughing while Bill tries to beat George with his helmet.

"Oh God" Bree says as her laugh subsided "You never seize to amaze me George."

"Well…Thank you, Milady. I'm hilarious."

Bill grunts "Pah! Your humor is an acquired taste."

"No, your face is an acquired taste." George says.

Buck has to slaps their head and threatens them with bodily harm so that they stop laughing.

Ah…this discussion session is good for reducing the stress level as usual.

* * *

"Morning, Sullivan."

"Good morning, Colonel Sink. What can I do for you?"

"I heard from Captain Nixon that you're working in a Public Relation office in you time? What did you do?"

"That's true, Sir. Mainly I'm handling celebrities. Covering for their stupid action or push them to the right spotlight. Stuffs like that."

"So you familiar with the psychology of the masses or some sort? How to steer people's opinion?"

"I do, Sir."

"I want you to analyze this"

"What is it, Sir?"

"Those leaflets were sent to our line. They are German propaganda. I want you to analyze those. It's been compiled based on chronology, since Christmas Eve up until now. Find out why they wrote those. Read between the lines. Can you do that?"

"But I thought you have a whole division to analyze this, Sir."

"I want your modern perspective. And OWI, that's Office of War Information, have shit managements and right now mostly concern to deliver propaganda at home. You know…to raise war bonds."

"Oh…so that's why there's camera men here? To make a documentary to show at home?"

"Yes…and while we're at it, tell the boys to smile for the camera. Got to keep the morale up for them folks back home."

"Why? It's our soldiers that need morale booster."

"I'll give you my answer I gave to Captain Winters just now. 'Dammned if I know.' This is why I told you OWI is shit."

"The Army and their ways."

"I agree on you this once."

"Okay, Colonel. I'll do my best to analyze this. I'll give you my report as soon as possible."

"Good. I guess we've found one purpose of your time travel then."

"I think so, Colonel."

* * *

"Bree, I want you to look at these."

"What is it, Captain Winters?"

"Another Nazi propaganda leaflets. Fired at us just now via rifle grenade."

There are two leaflets. They're titled 'The Inevitable Faith of Democracy' and 'Come and See for Yourselves!'

The first leaflet explains that 'Germany is fighting as a single united force against the destroying the element of world democracy… BOLSHEVISM' and the danger the 'Anglo-America' will face if the Russian Army 'gain the supremacy of BOLSHEVISM'

The second leaflet asks for General Eisenhower to come inside the German lines and 'see for yourselves what your Bolshevik allies are like'.

"They're losing and they're desperate." Bree concludes. "You see…In December, their propaganda mostly aimed to demoralize our soldiers. Like this one, for example." Bree shows the Captain another leaflet with picture of a family during Christmas dinner. "They want our soldier to be homesick and lose hope. But this new leaflets…Can I conclude that the Russians were successful in beating the German in the Eastern front?"

"Yes…you're right." The Captain nods.

"The Russians are pressing them and they want us to help them. A complete horse shit, I might say. This leaflet.." Bree points the second leaflet "says that the Bolshevik atrocities in Hungary were so bestial. Well….you'll find out that the Nazi has done a lot more evil than that."

"So the rumors about what they did to the Jews are true?" Winters asks.

"Not just to the Jews, Sir. But to all the minorities that not qualify Nazi's perfect-race qualification. The Gypsies, Poles, people with disabilities. What the Nazi did…do…is evil. Evil beyond belief. My sister studied this. She rehearsed her presentation to me. I've seen pictures, evidence of their brutality."

"I'm not saying I do not believe you, Bree…But…honestly...I can't imagine…"

"I understand, Sir. The German citizens themselves don't believe it at the beginning. You'll believe it when you see it. Just…prepare yourself."

"Will do, Bree." Winters says solemnly. "Make a report about your analysis and sent it to Colonel Sink."

"Yes, Sir. On the positive side..." Bree says, grinning. "You guys can use those leaflets as toilet papers. You know…Recycle. Go green. Save the trees. Be a hipster."

"What's a hipster? But…yes. What a great idea!" Winters beams "Last time I use proper toilet paper was months ago."

"Argh….TMI, Cap! Too Much Information!"

* * *

Someone said that wars are like the sea; unpredictable and unforgiving, and before you know it, everyone's is drowning.

Bree is an observer. She can see the dynamic in Easy Company in just a few days she's with them. Bree can see that because Dike is doing shit in leading the Company, it's Lipton as Easy's 1st Sergeant and the resident clown George Luz that keep the men's heads above in the wave of war.

Bill once told her that there's no Toccoa men left in the Officer level. The remaining enlisted Toccoa men were struggling to filter the retardation that come from their CO and dumbass junior officers. And also there's replacement soldiers, that Easy like to call them babies. Their hurry-up training didn't forge them hard enough (mentally and physically) to face near-constant pressures from the Krauts.

Buck's the only officer with combat experience and good leadership skill. The other officers are replacements so their experience is little to none, thanks to the speed up training. But Buck is getting tenser every day. He's like a spring that coiled so tight and will sprung out of control on the slightest touch. Understandable, because he's the de facto leader of Easy since Dike is a dumbass troglodyte.

Lipton tries to ease some of Buck's weight by constantly makes rounds to ease the men's stress level. Helping dig foxholes, assuring that they're gonna be okay and frequently seen listening to the men's venting their frustration. Luz, crazy permanent-rainbow-person that he is, jumps from foxholes to foxholes to telling jokes, mainly about Dike. He also shares cigarettes and other stuffs that, in this situation, are more valuable than money ("I cleaned up the Officer Supply Office" "You mean _steal_ from the Officer Supply Office" "Semantics"). Both Lipton and George are understood that this stressful situation will only inflict fear amongst the men. And fear is poison. It's contagious. So they do everything they can to taking care Easy.

"Afternoon Gents and Bree…" George says one day. "And midget." He greets Frank. Frank throws a rock at him that he dodged expertly. "I come bearing gifts." He lifts a box full of cigarettes, medical supplies and chocolates.

"Aaah…Hershey Bars! Marry me, Georgioooo" Joe beams and makes grabby-hands at George.

"You're not my type" George says flatly and starts to throw the content of his box to his friends.

"Because I'm a male? Or a Jew?" Joe asks, grinning and starts posing like those French ladies complete with kissy face. The other men make gagging sounds.

"Idiot." George deadpans

"Eh…Fair point" Joe shrugs nonchalantly and snatches a box of cigs and a chocolate bar right from the box.

"Dear God, you are such a guy." Bree rolls her eyes.

"Thank you" Joe grins.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a compliment, you blockhead." George growls. "And share that chocolate with the others, will ya. I don't have many."

"No I won't share! Chocolate makes me happy." Joe says childishly although he's the oldest of the guys.

It's Gene turn to rolls his eyes "It's not chocolate that makes you happy, idiot. Chocolate promotes the production of dopamine. The happy hormone. It doesn't itself contain dopamine."

Bill scoffs "Doc…I thought you know that one shall not talk words with more than two syllables to Joe. His brain cells can't process too much complexity."

Joe snaps "I'm here, you assholes. And I'm smart. I read things."

George sighs dramatically "Alas, it's against my religious belief to assume you're smart. And who are you kidding. You only read Dick Tracy and Flash Gordon."

Joe mutters "Dickheads" and then proceeds to eat his chocolate with gusto.

George chuckles at the sight "You see, Bree… Joe here has only two emotions: hungry and horny. If you see him without an erection, throw him some chocolate."

Joe flips him off.

"So George…you hear any news about our next plan to attack Foy?" Bill asks.

"It'll be anytime soon, I believe. How's your recon this morning, Joe?" George says

Joe swallows a big bite of chocolate before answer "All buildings in that village are full with Krauts to the ceiling. Try to locate all the 88s and the other big stuffs but they concealed it pretty well. But Shifty spotted one 88 that was camouflaged as a tree though. Can you imagine that? He simply look at the forest and notified Lipton that there's a tree that wasn't there the day before. I mean…we just really lucky we got Shifty on our side."

"What happened next?" Bree asks.

"Lipton requested an artillery attack. One 88 down." Joe says.

"But still there are a lot of them on the village. We'll meet a lot of surprises, I can guarantee that." George says glumly.

Malark mumbles "Great. And Dike will lead us. Dammit…Can I accidentally throw a grenade into his general direction?"

"I'll be in his general direction, you idiot. I'm his radio man." George snaps. "Who's gonna bring you Titters Magazine if I'm dead."

"What's Titters Magazine?" Bree asks.

"Contraband." The boys answer in unison and then laugh together as if it's an internal joke. Bree hears Joe says "God…I missed Sobel and his antics."

"Boys…" Lipton arrives and immediately sat beside Bree "Why I'm hearing about grenade, Lieutenant Dike and Titters Magazine in one conversation? And how are you doing, Bree? Corrupted enough by this band of misfits?" he smiles.

"I don't like the insinuation, Lip." George mocks offended. "I'm just spreading love, you see."

"And he's singing 'praises' about Dike." Malark says.

"Excuse you. You're the one that have plan to throw a grenade at him. Not me." George says.

"But yesterday I heard you try to bribe Shifty with cigarettes to 'accidentally' shot that idiot when said idiot gave another bullshit patrol command." Malark retorts.

George grins shamelessly "Eh…desperate times call for desperate measures"

Lipton chuckles "You crazy idiots. I told you before, and I'm gonna tell you again. We all do our jobs, everything'll be fine. We're the toughest, most professional, most dedicated sons of bitches in the entire ETO."

"I know that, Lip." Bill says "I trust you. I trust our Toccoa men. But I don't trust Dike. I just wish Captain Winters still our Commander. I would follow him into hell. With him, I knew everything was absolutely under control."

"I know, Bill. But Captain Winters is now the battalion Executive Officer. He got four companies under him. Look…We're gonna be alright. We still got Buck Compton. I assure you, Captain Winters won't just sit and do nothing. And I hope you guys don't talk too much about Dike's idiocy to the other, especially to the replacements. They're already scared enough."

George huffs dramatically and rolls his eyes "Ok, dad… I get the friggin' point. Jeez. Spread the gospel of Dike's stupidity in front our babies equals not good. Got it. But will I listen...? Hell no." he winks.

Lipton snorts and slaps him on his head "Wiseass."

* * *

Easy move again to their old position in the woods overlooking Foy. Bree can see that the tension is getting thicker. The trees around them were burst everywhere; the sign that the Germans had been shelling their old position. Apparently the shelling were so intense, the 1st Battalion that defend the position before them didn't spend much time above the ground. Fecal matters in the foxholes are the evidence. They immediately reinforced their foxholes with branches. As usual, Lipton makes rounds helping other by bringing branches. Bree keeps close with Captain Winters and Nixon in a foxhole that serves as Command Post.

"Stay here, Bree. We're very close to the line." Nixon says.

"I understand, Sir. But…is that…Lieutenant Dike? Why he walked away from the front line?"

"Jesus! I can't believe this! What the hell he's doing here?! He supposed to be with Easy at the outpost." Nixon hissed angrily and starts to walk toward him, surely to reprimands said irresponsible officer.

Bree can't hear anything form her position, but she can see that Nixon says strong words to Dike and then Dike walks back sulkily to the front while Nixon walks back towards her.

But then someone shouts "INCOMING! TAKE COVER!"

In what she feels like a slow motion, Nixon runs towards her, jumps to their foxhole and immediately covers her with his body.

There's nothing they could do when the Krauts decided to showering them with artillery. They could only make themselves as small as possible in their foxholes and pray for the best.

And this barrage is different.

It's so intense.

It's the ultimate display of Nazi's firepower.

Bree feels extremely terrified; her panic attack comes in full force. She's wheezing and crying. She barely hears Nixon shouts above the exploding sounds around them.

"Stay with me, Bree. Please…Breathe. Come on…Follow my breathing, Bree. One..two…come on. Don't give up. It's gonna be okay. I got you."

And just like that, the barrage stops. Bree starts to breathe again, but it still comes in short.

Shouts are heard from every corner of the forest.

"Stay in your foxhole!"

"Stay down!"

"Medic!"

"Help!"

"I gotta get up! I gotta get up! I gotta get my helmet!"

"I got you, buddy!"

"Hang on!"

"INCOMING!"

The second barrage even more intense than the first.

Bree starts to hyperventilate again. Nixon starts to tremble too but he still shouts encouragement to Bree. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. Stay strong, Bree. It's gonna be over soon. Come on. Breathe. Think about your sister. Think about that handsome doctor of yours. You'll survive this. You will meet them again."

After what feels like thousands of years, the barrage is finally stopped. The silence that follows even feels eerier than the shouts after the first barrage.

And the silence is broken by the ragged voice of Buck Compton shouts "Me…medic!"

* * *

A/N: Hi guys...thank you for the review and follows. Sorry for not update this story as soon as I want to. Work and life have been crazy lately. Please bear with me if you find mistakes since this story is not beta-ed. So please read, poke me if you find some mistakes and don't forget to leave your review. I really want to know your opinion. Cheers ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Bree heard for the first time the term 'clusterfuck' when her sister persuaded her to watch an HBO mini-series about the Marines of the First Recon Battalion in Iraq. The definition of the term is 'an originally military term for a situation in which multiple things have gone wrong'.

That's exactly what happened to Easy Company.

Clusterfuck.

Easy suffers heavy casualties during the barrages this morning. That's what happened when 88 mm guns, which originally designed as anti-aircraft and anti-tank artillery guns, were aimed to ground targets, such as Paratroopers.

Joe Toye's legs were destroyed during the first barrage. Bill Guarnere's legs were mangled while he tried to drag Joe Toye to safety when the second barrage started. Both are Buck Compton's close friends, both are highly reliable NCOs from 2nd Platoon and Buck watched them all torn up. Buck dropped his helmet and walked to the aid station in a zombie-like state. George tried to talk to him, to stay with the men, but Buck shook his head slowly and said "I'm sorry. I can't." Buck Compton has reached his breaking point.

"I won't blame him." George says sadly to Bree. "The stress is too much for Buck. He already did his best."

"Who's gonna be lead the 2nd Platoon then?"

"I think it's gonna be Malark. I don't think Captain Winters will assign a new officer without combat experience when we're this close to attack Foy. It'll be too risky. My only concern is…well…you see…Malark is always in the front line since D-Day. He's never get hurt or pulled back. Hoobler's death already shook him, you know. They're quite close. And now Buck has to stay at the aid station. I'll talk to Skip and Penk to stay close to Malark. Those two are his last…anchor, I might say."

"Poor Malarkey. Do you think Buck's gonna be okay? Captain Winters asked me to write trench foot in the report as his reason for being hospitalized. I wonder why though. I thought CSR will be enough reason for being hospitalized."

"What's CSR?"

"Combat Stress Reaction. You know…changes in behavior due to stress of battle that will decrease the soldier's fighting efficiency. My sister once wrote about this. I proofread her essay about CSR in soldiers of World War 2. I mean…this war."

"Well…we called it shell shock in this time. Some people in the higher up still consider shell shock is a weakness and shall not found in "good" units. There were men with shell shock who put on trial, and even executed, for desertion and cowardice. General Patton even slapped two soldiers in Italy because those soldiers said that they're 'can't take it anymore'. I think that's why Captain Winters asked you to write that on Buck's report. He wanted to protect Buck."

"I see. God…I don't know how you guys can get through this."

George smiles softly "Don't worry…We'll be fine. Although we'll be finer if we had a company commander like Lieutenant Speirs, instead of Dike. But we'll make do."

"Oh yeah…I've met Lieutenant Speirs when he's giving his report to Captain Winters & Nixon. He's very competent, all right. And intense. But damn….that man is downright creepy. Handsome, I admit, but creepy. With his mussed black hair and brooding eyes that could probably both impregnate and kill at several paces."

George laughs "That…is the most definite description of Lieutenant Speirs I've ever heard!"

"What description?" says aforementioned creepy man who just materialized from behind a tree.

"Holly shi….molly! Lieutenant Speirs, Sir. Um…Good day?" George stutters. Meanwhile, Bree tries to restart her heart that surely stopped for a second just now.

"Not really." Speirs says flatly. "What did you two just talk about?"

"Um…just discussing about combat fatigue, Sir." Bree says.

"I see. I hope Compton will be all right." Speirs says. And then he just stares at the two of them, which is very unnerving. He finally reached to his pocket and picks up a box of cigarettes "Do you want some cigarettes?"

George immediately shook his head in panic. "Th..thank you, Sir. But she's not smoking and I gotta bring her to Captain Nixon. Uh…Thanks again, Sir." And he practically drags Bree to command post.

After they're far enough from Speirs, Bree asks "What the hell was that?"

George huffs "There's a rumor that he's giving cigarettes to 20 German POWs, before killing them."

"Are you shitting me?!"

"I'm not that kinky. Ouch! Why you always slap my head, woman! Look…just be careful if he offers you a cigarette, all right? Constant vigilance."

"Geez…now you sound like Mad-eye Moody."

"Mad-eye who?"

"Never mind."

* * *

A few days later, E Company and the rest of the 506 set a line in the woods west of Foy. Captain Winters is on the radio, reporting to Colonel Sink.

"Lighting Six. Kidnap. Uh, yes Sir. We've cleaned all the green area. We have KIA."

"Thirteen." Nixon reads from Bree's report.

"Thirteen, Sir." Winters relays the information to the radio.

"Copy, Lighting. Kidnap out." Says Colonel Sink from the radio.

Winters huffs and sits on his makeshift chair. "Thirteen…" At that moment, he looks so much older than his age. He's just a Captain and only 27 years old, but holding responsibilities of a Major.

"They died as heroes, Dick." Nixon says.

"I know, Lew." Winters says "They're just too young."

"Older men declare war. But it's the youth that must fight and die." Bree says.

Nixon nods "Herbert Hoover."

"But I assure you, they won't die in vain, Sir. My sister admires your generation. In my time, we called your generation as 'The Greatest Generation'. You survived the Great Depression and you voluntarily went on to fight in this war, not for fame and recognition, but because it was 'the right thing to do'. I was not really understood back then when my sister told me, but after these past few days, I can really see that the term is really apt. So please don't be sad for those who passed away, Sir. They died for the right cause. They won't be forgotten."

Nixon pats Winters' shoulder "Come on, Dick. We need your calm head."

Winters exhales "I tried, Lew. But it's hard to calm yourself if your boys are in imminent danger because of one shitty officer."

Nixon laughs "Whoa…you cursed! Dike finally gets on your nerves."

Winter snorts "Believe me…when Lipton told me that on that last barrages Dike comes running up to him and may I quote '1st Sergeant Lipton, you organize things here, and I'm gonna go for help', I want to slap that idiot officer to the moon and back."

Nixon and Bree laughs at that. Winter is seen as a hybrid of Angle, Saint and anything goodness. He even didn't drink alcohol ("And you're best buddies with Captain Nixon who declared Vat 69 as his soul mate." "I know. I myself surprised we're best friend. I even let him to hide his Vat 69 supplies in my footlocker." "You both have the most epic bromance") So he's cursing and calling someone as idiot is a very rare occurrence.

"Well, Bree…here we saw Dick Winters in his very uncommon state of foul mouth. A very rare occurrence, I might add, that we should record for future reference." Nixon says.

"Oh, for crying out loud…" Winters laugh.

"And here we back to politeness. You know..."

Nixon can't finish his sentence because the Nazi decides to barrage them with heavy artillery. Again.

Nixon shouts "Oh for fuck's sake! Come-the- fuck-on! Fucking surrender already, you asshole!"

Winters just rolls his eyes at his friend's antics. How the hell he can be this calm during a bombardment?

When the barrage finally stopped, shouts of "Medic!" rang through the forest. The Battalion radio crackles and Frank's shaken voice came over "Lightning, Lightning. This is Easy Red. We have KIA. Skip and Penk…I mean…Muck and Penkala. Direct hit. Over."

Winters' face paled before he mutters "Oh God…Malarkey…".

* * *

Nixon forbade Bree to see Skip and Penk's foxhole, because what left from them are just some pieces of bodies, a part of a sleeping bag, and a piece of Skip's rosary. From what Nixon told her, when the barrage started, George didn't make it to reach the nearest foxhole. Skip and Penk shouted at him to crawl and jump to their foxhole. But when George started to crawl towards them, their foxhole has taken a direct hit. Right in front of George. After the barrage, Frank and Babe found George digging frantically on the foxhole with his bare hands. They have to drag George from it.

Skip and Penk's death hit Malark the hardest. Just like George said, both are Malark's last anchor. The three of them were inseparable since Toccoa. In just a few days, he'd seen his best friends die and the other reached breaking point.

Lipton gave him Hoob's Luger and a piece of Skip's Rosary. Nothing left from Penk. He stored the items carefully and promised Lipton that he will write letters to Faye (Skip's fiancée) and Penk and Hoob's family. His usually vibrant red hair is now a lump of brown mess. Worried about him, Winters offered him to go back to Battalion and work as a runner for a few days. But still Malark refused to leave his post as de facto leader of 2nd Platoon. He took a deep breath and put his mind one hundred percent on his duty. This is how Donald Malarkey coping with his loss.

George stays quiet for a while. Frank told Bree that after George saw Skip and Penk foxhole exploded in front of him, he managed to crawl to Lipton's foxhole. Seconds later, a shell hit their foxhole.

But the shell didn't explode.

That's just the way it is. The shell that hit the foxhole George and Lipton was a dud. The one that hit Skip and Penk foxhole wasn't.

Those two near death experience has shook George deeply. And without George Luz's antics to lighten the day, fear starts to creep up. And fear is poison in combat. The morning after the shelling that killed Skip and Penk, Lipton saw a soldier try to dig a foxhole with his bare hands. He even didn't notice that he'd torn all his fingernails.

* * *

Lieutenant Norman Dike is an idiot and bears shit in the woods.

Some things are fact.

This morning is the day. They will attack Foy. Each building on the small town is filled with Nazi and their weapons to the ceiling.

The plan is simple. Easy Company will lead the attack, while the other Companies as the reserves. Easy will have to run across a clearing to reach the village. There's very little cover, so Easy has to move quickly.

Bree stands beside Nixon and Colonel Sink on the edge of the clearing while Winters briefs Dike about the attack.

"I've set up two machine guns at either end here." Winters says to Dike "They'll give you covering fire. 3rd Battalion will come from the east, led by I Company. That's to cause distraction. D Company will be in reserve"

Winters points to the direction of Dog Company with Speirs leading them. Speirs nods.

"But you shouldn't need them" Winters continues to Dike "The point is, you gotta move in there fast. Get in there before they can bring their mortars and artillery down on you. Clear?"

Bree literally can see Dike's head working.

Processing.

Compute.

Error 404: Brain not found.

"Clear" Dike says unconvincingly.

Winters looks like he wants to wring the idiot's neck. But he manages to refrain himself and pats Dike in the shoulder, giving his last benefit of the doubt "I'm relying on you. Get it done."

The aforementioned idiot is yawning.

Even Speirs throws a murderous glare at him.

Eugene steps beside Bree and hold her hands "Bree…can you keep this for me." He gives her his photo with Vera and a letter. "If there's something happened to me, I want you to send this to Vera. Tell her that you're my friend, and that I love her…and that I'm sorry to make her wait."

Bree tries very hard not to cry "Gene…come on…you're gonna be okay."

Gene smiles softly, looking resigned "I really hope so, Bree. But with Dike leading this attack…well…let's just say I'm a realist."

Bree can only nods. She keeps the photo and the letter on her breast pocket, and watched Gene take his place on his assigned platoon.

Not far from her, Bree sees George, in his position besides Dike, tinkering with his radio, presumably check that he's in the right channel and all parts are functional. When he lifts his head, his eyes meet hers and he smiles a little. He then mouthed 'take care'. Bree replies with 'you too'

And the attack begins. Started by the machine guns open fire, followed by Easy Company moving forward, and then German artilleries decided to join the party.

Bree stands beside Nixon, watching the attack on the relative safety of the edge of the clearing. Winters and Colonel Sink stand a little further in front of him.

"Oh God…oh My God…that's too close" Bree gasps when a mortar exploded near Lipton.

"Breath, Bree." Nixon says. Bree can feel his fingers curl on her wrist. "You can shut your eyes, if you don't wanna see. It's okay."

"I can't. I want to, but I can't."

Nixon sighs "Me too"

And then the metaphorical shit hits the metaphorical fan. Dike is the middle of the clearing, suddenly stop, his head turned to the left and to the right as if he's looking for someone and order the rest of the men to stop. The idiot himself takes a hide behind a haystack while his men scattered around in the open, an easy target for German artilleries.

Retardation, thy name is Norman Dike.

Winter shouts "Will you move! Get out of there! Move!"

Bree grabs Nixon hand "Why they're stopping?! What the hell Dike's doing?"

Nixon hissed angrily "I have no idea! They're sitting duck out there!"

Winters walks furiously towards regimental radio and starts to contact George "Easy Six, Easy Six. Kidnap over. Give me Six!"

George's respond is heard from the radio "Roger, Kidnap. Standby for Six."

There's a rustle and there's a voice that shouts "I don't know! I don't know!" that Bree is sure it's Dike's voice.

Winters barks to the radio "You better get Dike on that radio! NOW!"

There's sounds of other people on the radio.

"That sounds like Lipton, Foley and Shames." Nixon says. "What the hell…Dike order's Platoon leaders to have a meeting behind a haystack?! Idiot!"

Winters is shouting to the radio now because apparently, Dike is too chicken shit to talk to respond him "Get going forward!"

Luz's voice is heard again from the radio. He sounds exasperated "You need to talk to Captain Winters, Sir."

And then they saw the 1st Platoon flanking around at the back of the village.

Nixon shook his head violently. "No no no no! Stupid! That's not the plan!"

Speirs walks toward them with a murderous glare "Dike's getting his men got killed!"

Nixon spats "I know, Speirs! That's my boys too over there."

Winters finally loose his shit when he sees one baby replacement got shot in the head by a sniper. He shoulders his M1, charges forward and shouts "You've got to keep moving!"

Colonel Sink quickly shouts and grabs his elbow "Dick! Captain Winters! Goddamn it! You're the battalion commander! Now get back here!"

Winters halts frustratedly and turns back around.

Colonel Sink continues "Now, Dick, I understand your attachment to Easy Company…"

Winters cuts him "SPEIRS! Get yourself over here!"

Speirs immediately runs to him and Winters shouts "Get out there and relief Dike and take that attack on in!"

Nixon huffs "About damn time.."

Colonel Sink joins Bree and Nixon while Winters stays in his position, overlooking the attack "Damn it! That Dike person is literally the dumbest excuse of an Officer I've ever met. Bree, after this, I want you to prepare a letter to General Taylor to transfer that idiot to any unit as far from my regiment as possible. He messed up enough."

"Gladly, Sir." Bree say, but her eyes keep watching Speirs running through the clearing. "Holly…did he just…"

Nixon chuckles "Yep…he just jumped through a mortar explosion."

Colonel Sink mumbles "That's the difference between a properly trained Officer and a Ninety-day wonder."

Nixon says "Well…Foley turns out all right as a Ninety-day wonder, Sir. I think it's because he has brain, unlike Dike. He just need more combat experience. Speirs is downright exemplary since Toccoa. That man is a natural-born leader and warrior."

Bree muses "Give that man a red, white and blue spandex and a shield and he'll be Captain America."

Nixon says "Wow…Captain America comics still in the run in 2016? I like that comic."

Bree grins "Yep…the movies are superb too…with awesome CGIs, one hunky and super delicious Chris Evan, and the whole goodness that is Marvel Cinematic Universe."

Nixon frowns "I don't understand half of what you're talking about, but I think it's a good thing."

"I don't know why the two of you discussing comic book characters during an attack." Colonel Sink says. "You just missed how Speirs effectively eliminate the snipers and make Easy moving forward again."

"Right." Nixon and Bree mumble, feeling chastised.

From their position, they can see Easy is making progress; now on the edge of the town. Most of them take cover behind the scattered shacks. Unfortunately, due to Dike foolish decision holding up Easy, Item Company that supposed to be on the other side of the town started to pull back.

"Oh…No no no.." Nixon says. He's wearing his binocular.

"What is it?" Bree asks.

"I think Item is gonna pull back. Easy has to make radio contact or Item gonna slip away."

And then they see something worthy to be depicted in a movie, with Chariots of Fire as the background music. Oh…and in slow motion.

Speirs, the fearless-creepy-handsome person that is Lieutenant Ronald Speirs, run towards the I Company…through the town and German lines, link up with the Item Company soldiers and have a quick chat with I Company leader. Having completed this, he then runs back (!) through the German-occupied town. At first the Germans didn't shoot at him. Bree thinks it's because they couldn't' quite believe that this crazy GI will casually run through their line, twice.

"Un-fucking-believable" Nixon grins.

"He's an overly manly man…like Chuck Norris..." Bree mumbles in disbelief.

"I want Speirs to be Easy Company commanding officer." Winter shouts over his shoulder from where he's standing.

"Done." Colonel Sink shouts back.

* * *

Even though Easy managed to capture Foy, they can't take a rest just yet. Apparently, the-powers-that-be's main objective is Noville. But to capture Noville, they need tank support. And tank needs roads. Ergo, Foy it was.

To reach Noville, they have to occupy a tiny village of Cobru and then Recogne. And to reach Cobru, they have to across a 2 kilometers of open and snow-covered field (again), in a bright sunny day. In Colonel Sink's words to Winters, "2nd Battalion would have the honor of leading the attack on Noville". In which of course could be translated as "Easy is the spearhead. Now get it done!". But on the bright side, the success of the attack of Foy and Speirs being Easy's new commander, lift the morale of the men.

This night, while regrouping and preparing for their next progress to Cobru, they stay on a church, entertained by the angelic choirs from the nuns. Most of them sit contemplatively while the other takes the much needed sleep.

Bree already finished typing the report of today's attack. It's very depressing to write down all the fallen soldier names, especially the one that she knows closely. So after she gave the report to Captain Winters, she's looking for George. She needs some stress relieve.

She founds George with Frank and Gene. Gene is tending Frank's…ass?

"You ain't a real man of Easy Company unless you've been shot in the ass. So congratulation, Sir Frank of Perconte. Thy now a proud man of Easy Company." George says with super horrible English accent.

He taps Frank's right shoulder and then left shoulder with his bayonet like he's knighting Frank. Frank himself is lying on his stomach since, apparently, his ass got shot during the attack. Eugene is tending his wound. Poor Eugene.

"It's fucking hurts, George! I don't know getting shot in the ass can be this hurt." Frank seethes. Bree pats his shoulder commiseratively.

Eugene chuckles "You're lucky you only got one wound, Frank." He pulled the bullet from Frank's ass and starts to clean and close the wound with bandage. "Buck's got four holes from just one bullet back in the Holland. The bullet had gone into the right cheek of his butt, out, into the left cheek, and out."

"Oh yeah…I remember that." George laughs "Talk about big ass. You see, Bree...Easy has so many traditions. Getting shot in the ass is one of them. The others are loyal to the point of idiocy to your buddies, went AWOL from hospital and repeatedly demoted due to mischief activities."

"That's just you. Repeatedly demoted, that is." Gene says.

"Oh yeah…that just me." George says shamelessly. "But I got promoted again, mind you. I'm just too good in my job."

Gene and Frank snort in unison.

"Speaking about job." Bree says "Do you know what you're going to do after this war? I've read about this new G.I Bill in Colonel Sink's newspaper. It offers low-interest loans and cash payment for tuitions among others."

"I think I'll the loan." George says "I have no interest in school. But I'm good with mechanical things. I'm gonna use the money for starting my own repair business. Ahh….I've already see the bright future." George nods with faraway look on his eyes.

Frank scoffs "Hah… my teeth are brighter than your future."

Without losing a beat, George says "Then you have to protect your teeth from Lieutenant Speirs, midget. That man is easily distracted with something shiny."

Bree laughs "Okay…first, as of tomorrow, it'll be Captain Speirs. Second, what's with Speirs and shiny things? I just saw he's holding some kind like a gold goblet and a small ornate clock on my way here."

"Our new, esteemed company commander developed this affinity for precious and shiny objects since our mission in Netherland. He said it's to…um…'preserve' the historical objects from ignorant hands." George says.

"Geez…George you really shouldn't use your entire vocabulary in one sentence." Frank says.

"What's this? Amateur Comedy Hour: Asshole Edition?! Are you wishing to shit sideways? Because I will happily rip open you wounded ass again for a new asshole for you. It's I insult you, not the other way around. That's how the universe works." George says.

Frank flips him off over his shoulder.

Gene chuckles while tidying up his medic stuffs and then says "Why don't you both crawl back inside your mothers and don't come back out again until you've matured into proper human being?" and then he goes to the aid station.

George grins widely as if he's a proud father or something "Aaawwww…our medic become feisty. I think my comedic genius has rubbed off on him."

Bree snorts "Yeah...right…Comedic genius. Whatever makes you sleep in the night, George."

"Ohhh…I will give anything for a hot shower right now. I've donned this Eau de Homeless too long for my liking." Joe joins them and flops himself beside Frank. "How ya doin little guy?" He pats Frank's head.

Frank swats Joe's hand; feeling annoyed "I can shot your ass if you wanna know how I feel."

Joe grins "Wow….are you menstruating or something? The only one who is bitchier than you right now is Martin. But that's his default expression day by day."

"Asshole" Frank mumbles. "Dammit how can I brush my teeth if I have to lay on my stomach all day." He moans.

Bree laughs "That's what makes you're like grumpy cat? Because you can't brush your teeth? You really are something Frank."

"Maintaining oral hygiene is important! War or not. And what the hell is grumpy cat?! I've told you…no more references about the future!" Frank says heatedly.

Joe grins "That's Frank Perconte for you, Bree. His toothbrush is his most precious thing in the whole world. What the heck it is made of, by the way, that make it so goddam precious, Frank?"

Frank snaps "Your mom's chest hair!"

* * *

A/N: Hello...thank you for the review and follows. as usual, since Englih is not my native language and i have no beta reader, please bear with me if you found any mistakes. So please read, poke me if you find some mistakes and don't forget to leave your review. Cheers ^_^


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello again dear mates...very sorry for the slow update. My comp has been crashed so...yeah... without further ado...here is Chapter 4. Hope you like it. ^_^

* * *

Bree has been thrown to the past for two weeks now. On the plus side, she's slowly getting used to paralyzing terrors and the sight and smell of war. Well…-ish. On the negative side, she definitely will have appointments to the therapist when she gets back to her time.

Easy men try their best to distract her; bless their good hearts, despite their idiosyncrasies. Colonel Sink, Captain Winters and Nixon always keep her busy with administrative tasks in the relative safety of the Battalion Command Post. The boys make turn to visited her at the CP for a chat or two. Or in George's case, it evolved to a thorough discussion about whether the type of a car can be an indication whether the male owner is overcompensating for a certain reproduction appendage. Winters, who accidentally overheard the discussion, turned beet red due to the word 'penis' were thrown casually in said discussion.

Nevertheless, Bree missed home. She missed modern appliances and general convenience that she usually takes for granted. It's like she's experiencing a reverse technology shock. Say goodbye to the magic of touchscreen and voice command (Bree missed SIRI's cold voice so effing much), and enter the world of analog full of lever pulling, switch flipping, button pressing, and dial turning.

She missed her iPod, filled with the obligatory top 40, pretentious indie music, Broadway musicals, and her guilty pleasure of 80's power ballads and corny electronic pops (Soft Cell's Tainted Love is a masterpiece, no matter everyone else think) and 90's boy band (Justin Timberlake's ramen-noodle-hair looked so good back then) & girl band (Bree's inner diva takes the form of Posh Spice) songs. What can she say? Her music taste ranges from 'you need to listen to this' to 'I know, please don't judge me'. Mostly the later.

She missed her computer, especially the autocorrect function (maybe it's karma because she bragged she didn't need this to Colonel Sink?) and the convenience of backspace button. It's a pain in the ass to use the eraser and the eraser shield if she made errors when typing in triplicate carbon copy. She has to go from carbon copy to carbon copy, trying not to get her fingers dirty as she leafed through the carbon papers, and moving and repositioning the eraser shield and eraser for each copy. Also she convinced that the ancient regimental typewriter made her fingers and palm grow additional muscles, if that thing is possible.

This morning, said typewriter decides that it wants to jam its R key. It's stuck and Bree can't un-stuck it. It's super mega suck. (She thinks in rhyme when she stressed out, okay. Sue her.)

She feels that she has a bond with this typewriter within the past week, so she lays her hand on the keyboard and says a few choice words gently.

"Baby….Please don't do this to me. Colonel Sink needs this report ASAP." She pleads to the typewriter.

She tries to unstuck the jammed key again. It doesn't budge.

"I know you want to take a rest, Typee-boo." she pleads again "But Colonel Sink will be arrive in an hour and it'll be super awkward if this report's not finished by then. Come on… You're my BFF. We're going to try again, okay?"

The typewriter doesn't say anything. It's very stoic that way. Meanwhile, a stack of paperwork nearby that she fondly called Leaning Tower of Pain in Her Ass wobbling slightly as if cheerfully mocking her.

The key is still jammed.

Bree knocks her head against the table. She's in that position when George finds her.

"Uh…"George says "Bad time?"

"Hey, George." Her voice is muffled by the table. "Just…you know…trying to give myself a concussion. No big deal."

"Right." Gorge snorts.

"One of the key is stuck again" she sighs.

"Scoot" George says and hip-checks her so she almost fall from the chair.

"You ass…thanks for being such a gentleman, George."

George shrugs "No biggie."

"It's sarcasm."

"I'm fully aware, my dear. Now shut your pretty yap" And he starts to check the typewriter. "It's jammed. Can you see here, Bree? The eraser crumbs and paper dusts are making buildup on the groove between the keys. That's what makes the key jammed."

"But I already use the eraser brush." Bree whines.

"You have to brush it carefully and properly. Which I understand that is very difficult for such a klutz like you." George explains while cleaning the typewriter.

"I hate it when you're sassier than me."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Asshole." Bree slaps the back of his head fondly. "Arrrgh…I miss my computer."

"What's that?"

"It's…uh…this electronic device that can help you compute, processing and storing data. More or less." How the hell she explains the complexity of modern computer.

"I'll pretend I understand." George says flatly "Here…done."

"Thank you, George. You're a life saver. So…what are you doing here? You don't mind we chat while I type this?" Bree says, pointing the Leaning Tower of Pain in Her Ass.

"Do your thing. I just want to know if you have any new gossip."

"Well…most likely you guys will be sent again to a city called…uh…Haguenau."

"The fuck?! Why?! We deserve to be sent back to Camp Mourmellon for some rest. We've been in the front line for two months in a row, for fuck's sake!"

"Hey…Don't kill the messenger….or gossiper…I just know from our esteemed Battalion Commander that the Nazi made their last offensive strike and make a hole on Alsace front line. You guys have to fill the gaps."

"God dammit. Sometimes it's a curse to be the best company in the ETO."

"Well…on the bright side, the newspaper back home called you guys The Battered Bastards of Bastogne. So it looks like the Army wants to utilize your badassery to the fullest."

George sighs "They know we've already battered but still they send us to another front line. The Army and their way of thinking."

"Are you guys gonna be okay?" Bree says warily.

"Don't worry, Bree. We're gonna be okay; we've volunteered for this anyway. We're the elite of the whole Army. The regular troops envied us because of our boots, the extra bucks we made and the prestige we had. We'll bitch and moan and plan imaginative ways to kill General Taylor, but we will get our job done."

Bree smiles softly "I hope you guys can meet my sister, Jane. She really admires your generation. I bet she's gonna fangirling over Captain Winters, because that's what always happened when she got to interview world war two veterans."

"Yeah." George chuckles "Do you miss your sister?"

"Oh George..." Bree sighs and sags on her chair. "Everyday. It's just two of us, you know. Our parents passed away since I was in high school. Jane was already twenty, so she immediately became my legal guardian. Thank God, because otherwise, I'd have to stay with Aunt Gertrude. She's as horrible as her name. It's just me and Jane against the world, since then. She even protected me from the bullies in my high school. Man, those boys were nasty; hiding their man pain behind copious amount of hair gel, overcompensating car and being super douchetastic. And Jane whooped their collective asses accordingly." Bree smiles sadly at the memory. "My sister is my knight in shining armor. I don't' know whether I'm dead or not in my time, but Jane must be devastated. She's alone. I just wanna to go home, George."

George hugs her "Yeah…I miss my family too, Bree. Alas, here we are, doing our best to kick Hitler right in his pasty white Aryan ass for doing an excellent job by being an asshole. I can even picture his gravestone already. Here lies Adolf Hitler; Professional Asshole. "

Bree snorts inelegantly "Why are we talking a lot about ass this evening? And leave it to George Luz to cheer everybody up even in the most distressed moment. Thank you, George."

George shuffled her hair "Anything to make you smile again, Princess. Now…the distressed damsel has been helped, the gossip has been gathered….Now I have to go to spread said gossip. See you later, Bree."

"Bye, George. Say hi to the boys for me." Bree waves at him and go back to type the report again.

Ten minutes later, the S key is stuck.

Bree's shout of "GOD DAMMIT!" can be heard five tents away. The Leaning Tower of Pain in Her Ass sways cheerfully.

* * *

They travel to Haguenau in a convoy of jeeps and trucks. The roads are slippery and dangerous, so the trucks proceed very slowly, almost in walking pace. Bree has to see several men jumped off the truck to take pee and catch up to reboard the trucks without difficulty. The sight is comical because the men wore layered uniform (it's mid-January, in freaking Europe) that consist of baggy pants, OD pants, long underwear, and OD colored underwear (Bree definitely DOES NOT take a peek to know the color of said underwear. It's said in a report somewhere), all without zipper. And sometimes the men still wearing gloves.

The city of Haguenau lay astride the Moder River. Easy is stationed on the south bank, while the Germans hold the north bank. Both sides had artillery support, so sometimes the Germans shelled the US and the US will reply in kind.

On the positive side (Bree can't help to think that Easy men always find something positive in this humongous clusterfuck), this will be the first time they will live indoors on the firing line. The Platoons are spread into several building with telephone system, bunks, gas lamps and working stove. George and Joe manly cried (a single tear fell down on their cheeks) and hugged each other when they found a functioning toilet. Joe, Gene and Babe fights over the bunk bed, while Malark can only sighs contemplating why his friends acting like six graders on a field trip.

Bree stays with the officers in a house that feels like a palace after slumming for weeks in a makeshift tent. She got a room for herself and she too shed a single tear when she saw a real bed and a working en-suit shower. She immediately set out to clean up her room.

She's working happily while belting out demanding what men really wants, what they really really want, when Captain Speirs suddenly materialized at her door.

"What the hell are you singing?"

"SHIT! Omigod, Sir! Creepy much?!"

"Well…you'd hear me walking if you're not crowing …whatever you're singing."

"Fyi…" Bree says indignantly. She needs to stand up for Spice Girl's dignity. "It's one of my favorite songs from my favorite girl band, Sir. Wannabe by the Spice Girls. It's a classic. Well…at least in my time."

Speirs snorts "Spice Girls? What's the name of its member? Cilantro?"

"Ha ha. You're funny. " Bree deadpans "And cilantro is technically an herb, not a spice. Now, the seed of cilantro plant, Coriander, is a spice. But I don't think you scared me to death just to discuss the difference between herbs and spices. So I gonna shut my mouth right about now." Bree rambles.

Speirs raises one of his eyebrows. "You're so talkative."

"I prefer the term loquacious." Bree grins.

"Semantics."

Bree sighs in defeat. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Sergeant Lipton is sick. Doc Roe said it's pneumonia. But he insists to sleep on the floor, in his sleeping bag because the other bunks at 1st Platoon's house are occupied. I want you to ask Luz to drag Lipton to this house so he can sleep in a bed or a couch. And then I want you to talk sense to said Sergeant, to stop working and take some rest."

"Have you said all this to Sergeant Lipton using your trade mark Glare of Doom, Alpha Voice or Menacing Pose?"

"I have. The combo of those three, in fact. But he's a stubborn motherfucker. I just don't want him to get worse. He's a good combat leader. Easy need him."

"All right. I'll talk to him."

"Good. Also find some extra blanket or maybe warm food for Lipton. And I heard there's new supply of cigarettes and Hershey bars. I want Luz to secure some for Easy before the rear echelon can hoard them."

"Aaw….you actually a big marshmallow under that creepy and growly facade, aren't you? You really care about your boys. Hah! You are part werewolf part marshmallow! Oh...don't give me that Glare, Sir. It won't work for me."

"You make me starting to question my reputation as a badass leader, right now." Speirs pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry, Sir. Your fluffy secret is safe with me."

* * *

The big house where Bree stay is serves as Officer's Quarter, Battalion HQ and Easy Company CP. As Captain Winter's aide, her 'office' is in the living room with a piano and a grandfather clock. She's typing a supply report (sitting in a real chair! With cushion!) when Captain Winter and Captain Nixon entering the room.

"Bree, have you seen Captain Speirs?"

"Last time I saw him is an hour ago, Captain Winters. Morning, Captain Nixon."

"I've told you, Bree. Call me Nix. Or Lewis. Or Lew. You're technically a civilian and I've adopt you as my sister." Nixon says magnanimously.

Bree rolls her eyes "Yeah…that's very generous of you, adopt a time-traveling, stray puppy like me. But I'm Captain Winter's aide, this is still office hour and we're technically at Battalion HQ."

Nixon grumbles at that.

"Do you have any news from the regiment, Bree?" Winters says.

"In this folder, Sir. Colonel Sink's runner gave these thirty minutes ago."

Winters takes the folder and starts reading. He groans shortly after "Oh for the love of…We got a replacement officer, Lew. Fresh from the West Point. He should be arrived today. And apparently, we'll have another patrol this night."

Nixon sigh "Let's just hope this new baby doesn't too eager for some action. Do you hear what happened on D Company's patrol last night? Replacement lieutenant blew his foot off. Also fresh from West Point. That boy had to come back empty-handed."

"I can feel this war is nearing to the end" Winters says thoughtfully "We don't need this action-seeker new-recruits to bumbling around and create unnecessary risk for our veteran soldiers." He exhales tiredly, rubbing his forehead, before he continues "Walk with me, Lew. We need to make plan for tonight's patrol. Stay inside, Bree. There are German snipers out there."

Nixon nods and follows Winters leaving Bree alone again in the living room. But not long after, George comes in with a very pale Lipton.

"Will you just stop being a workaholic, right now?! You're sick, for fuck sake!" George snaps at Lipton who walks weakly, clutching some papers.

"I feel useless if I'm not doing anything, George." Lipton says slowly.

"Gah!" George raises his hands in defeat "Bree…you talk sense to this…this…overly responsible person. I'm going to look for a blanket and find someone to prepare a room for him. And you, Mister Clifford Carwood Lipton..yeah…I'm using your full name at the risk of sounding like an overbearing Jewish Mom…sleep on that couch and don't you dare move your ass from it."

And then he left Bree and Lipton, grumbling under his breath.

"He did sound like an overbearing Jewish Mom" Bree chuckles, helping Lipton to sit down on the couch.

Lipton laughs weakly "Thanks, Bree. Yeah…That's George Luz for you. He comes from a big family, so he used to taking care of other."

Bree smiles "How are you, Lip?"

"Feeling cold. Still got a fever. But not as bad as yesterday. Doc managed to give me some new drug called…um…Penicillin?"

"Oh yeah...Penicillin. It's still used in my time as antibiotic, you know. I don't know it begin to be used in this war."

"Doc said that basically it's still in human trial phase. But the war needs safer and more effective antibiotics, so the government pushes the production of it."

"My sister told me that this war is a time when huge advances were made in medicine and medical practices. I remember she mentioned about morphine as pain killer, blood transfusion and quinine for malaria among other things. I was not really listening back then. I was not really interested in history." Bree says sheepishly.

"Well at least there's something good come out from this war." Lipton says.

"Don't think too much, Lip. You have to rest. We all worried about you. You've done enough in Bastogne. It's about time we're taking care of you." Bree says.

"But I want to do something. And it's just paperwork." Lipton stays stubbornly.

"But you're not resting. The only way you can be with the boys again, is by making a full recovery. And you'll get that if you're fully resting." Bree says.

"Listen to the wise woman, Lip." George enters the room again with a pile of blanket, pillows and boxes of new supplies (Bree has to commend George's resourcefulness). He's followed by Vest a.k.a The Mail Guy and Captain Speirs. Vest is carrying a box full of shiny stuffs that most likely are Speirs' "discovery" of the day.

Bree grins "Newest haul, Sir?"

"Gotta feed the pregnant Missus back in England." Speirs says flatly. He put his other treasure to Vest's box, while Vest resignedly holds the increasingly heavy box.

"Lift your ass for a moment, Lip. Remove your damp shawl and coat, put them over there, then go back here, and lie down. You can hold a pen, right? Supply office needs you to sign some papers." George says to Lipton.

"I'm just having pneumonia, George. Not being invalid." Lipton gets up and removes his shawl and coat while George arranges the blanket and pillow on the couch.

"After you room's ready, I order you to sleep in a real bed, in a real bedroom, Sergeant." Speirs says sharply to Lipton.

"Uh…Yes, Sir. In a minute. Just after signing the papers George just say."

"Bree, drag him if you have too." Speirs says firmly.

Bree smiles "Will do, Sir." while Lipton rolls his eyes.

Then a young soldier entering the room. Compared to the Homeless Chic appearance the Easy men donned these days, this man is squeaky clean, freshly shaved and not smelly. He has a Disney Prince look, fluffy hair and all, but he's a little subdued. Like he's trying to make himself small. He nods to everyone in the room. And if he's surprised to see a woman in the room, he doesn't show it. Speirs and Vest stare at him but not saying anything.

"Send these to England and then meet me at the house with a red door. Bring a bigger box." Speirs says to Vest and they left the house into separate directions completely ignoring the new man.

Talk about awkward.

"Heeey…Look who it is?" George grins to the new man, cigarette dangling on his mouth, while giving Lipton some papers. But his grin has some edge on it. He then says to Lipton, pointing to the pile of blanket and pillow on the table "Nice dig, huh, Lip?"

"Yeah" Lipton groans.

"Sergeant Lipton?" The man says. Well, he must be not a new recruit since he already knows Lipton.

"Hey look what I found." George brings a thick blanket and starts to cocoon Lipton tightly with the blanket. "There you go."

"Feeling all right?" The man asks Lipton again.

"He's got pneumonia" George says.

"l'm sorry" the man says.

"Why?" George smirks and then continues sarcastically "He's alive, he's got a couch, a goddamn blanket. He's snug as a bug." He then walks back to the table to sort his stuffs from the supply office.

The man apparently realizes George's tone. He swallows before he says to Lipton "Sgt. Malarkey said to check if l should be in 2nd Platoon."

"Have a seat, Webster." Lipton says weakly from the couch "We'll get you situated."

The man, Webster, sits in the chair beside the coach. "Um..so..uh…How long have you been sick?"

Lipton sighs "Long enough."

Bree snorts "Why do you have to be so stubborn, Lip?"

Lipton smiles weakly "I just want to be useful."

Webster looks down guiltily. There's must be something with this man.

"Oh I forgot to introduce you" George shouts from his table. "Webster, that woman is Briana Sullivan or Bree. You touch her, I cut you dick off. Bree, that is David Webster or College boy. He left Easy when he got nicked on his leg in Netherland. How long ago is that, Web? Two? Three? Four months ago? Boy, I never thought that teeny weeny wound will took that long to heal. You missed all the fun in Bastogne. Some of us didn't survive that fucking hell hole, you see."

Oh...so that's the problem. Easy men has this penchant of went AWOL from hospital. As long as their hand can carry the gun, no matter they wound is not fully healed, they'll do anything to get back to their unit to fight along their friends. This Webster guy possibly follows through all the procedure required to be cleared from hospital. Bree can understand George's (and possibly the rest of Easy men) resentment, because they needed all the help back then in Bastogne.

Webster shifts awkwardly on his seat. Lipton glares at George, while George mouthed _what?_ and shrugs innocently.

Bree clears her throat, and says "Um…so…uh…Webster…nice to meet you. Where did you study?"

Webster looks relieved someone's finally act civil to him "Harvard, Miss. I study Literature."

"Please, call me Bree. If you're in college, why you're not joining that officer school? What's it called, Lip?"

"OCS. Officer Candidate School." Lipton says.

"Uh…I don't think I have that leadership quality, Mi..uh…Bree." Webster says.

George scoffs "Yeah. I wonder what kind of leader that would leave his men just because he got a minor wound on his leg."

George is saved from Bree's signature slap on the head because another man entering the room. He's as clean as Webster, but he got an Officer insignia in uniform. This must be the new Lieutenant.

"ls this the company CP for Easy?" The man says formally.

"Yes, Sir." Lipton says, trying to sit up.

"As you were." The man says "Lt. Jones looking for Capt. Speirs." Wow…his talk and demeanor is very text book-y

"He's on his way, Sir. Why don't you sit down?" Lipton says and then asks George "Can you get me coffee? Want coffee, Lieutenant?"

"No, thank you." Jones says "Good Morning, Miss."

Well, at least he's polite, unlike Dike the Troglodyte.

"Good morning, Sir. I'm Briana Sullivan. Captain Winter's aide."

"Please to meet you." He smiles politely. He obviously wants to know why there's a civilian woman in WAC uniform in this office, but he refrains himself from asking further.

The Lieutenant then greets Webster "What platoon are you in?"

"We're about to find that out." Webster says.

They don't have to wait for a long time because Speirs is back again with Vest. He brings a beautiful desk clock and a book; another finding of the day, apparently.

Lipton tries to sit up "Captain Speirs, sir. This is Lieutenant Jones."

Said Lieutenant himself is stand at attention immediately. His perfect posture screams _I'm a greenie!_ loudly. Speirs ignores the Lieutenant and snaps at Lipton "Will you go back and sack out? There's beds with fresh sheets."

Lipton sighs "l will, sir. Just trying to make myself useful, sir."

Speirs glares at Bree as if it's her fault that Lipton was born as the most responsible person in the whole world.

Bree raises her hands in a gesture of _I've done everything, he's just too stubborn_. Speirs mumbles something about "God damn workaholic" and directs Vest to "inventory" his new treasures.

"Listen up." Captain Winters enters the room, followed by Nixon, and everyone stand at attention (well, except Lipton, even though he's trying to sit more straight), but not as rigid as the new Lieutenant. "Regiment wants patrol for prisoners."

At Speirs' frowns, Nixon adds "This one comes from Colonel Sink, so it's not my idea."

"The river is the line of resistance." Winters continues, "We have to cross it. There's a three-story building on the enemy side. lt's occupied. You can have 15 men. Think hard about who you want to lead. You'll need a scout, a translator. The battalion's on covering fire."

"When?" Speirs asks.

"Tonight." Winters says "01 00."

Speirs nods "Yes, sir."

"Speirs, l want this to be safe." Winters stresses

"Don't take chances on those men," Nixon cautions Speirs. "We're too far along for that."

"Speirs," Winters says "I wanna discuss who might go." And they start hushed discussion about the roster for tonight patrol while Nixon finally notices the new Lieutenant.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Lieutenant Jones, Sir." Jones says, posture still rigid.

Nixon grins "Right, our West Pointer."

Jones looks stiff, uncomfortable. "Yes, Sir." He says. He's very much aware that he's being treated as a newbie

"When did you graduate?" Nixon asks again.

"June 6, Sir."

Nixon gasps "June 6? Of last year?"

"D-Day, yes, Sir." Jones says uneasily.

Nixon laughs sarcastically "All right, don't get hurt."

Jones frowns (Bree can commiserate. Nobody wants to be treated like a child) and he addressed Captain Winters "Sir, l'd like to volunteer for the patrol."

Winters considers him briefly, but then goes right on talking to Speirs (which is rude!) "Speirs, talks to you in an hour." He then left the house again followed by Nixon.

Still ignoring Jones (Bree has this urges to hugs this new Lieutenant for the blatant cold-shoulder treatment), Speirs discuses with Lipton about the patrol "We're short on officers. You think a non-com could lead this?"

"l can think of a few possibilities." Lipton says.

"Martin? Malarkey? Grant?"

"Most of the NCOs could use a rest."

"Captain." Jones tries again "Request permission to go."

"There's your answer." Lipton says to Speirs.

"No." Speirs says flatly. "You don't have any experience."

Bree levels a defcon three scowl at Speirs. Speirs raises this one eyebrow.

Bree puts her hands in her hips. Speir's other eyebrows joins the first.

Her scowl increases into defcon two.

Speirs caves in.

"Report to 2nd Platoon." He says to Jones. Well, at least Jones being assigned to a Platoon that desperately needs an Officer. He can ease some of Malarkey's burden.

Jones replies with resignation "Yes, Sir."

"Tell Heffron, Ramirez and McClung they're going." Speirs orders.

"Yes, Sir." Jones nods.

Feeling ignored, Webster pops up (Bree almost forget he is there. He keeps silent when Winters explaining the patrol) and introduces himself, trying to explain his situation, but Speirs doesn't much care and dispatches him to 2nd Platoon as well.

Bree can see that Jones and Webster are treated as replacements. And they don't get any respect from the veterans. As soon as Jones and Webser leave for OP 2, Bree confronts George, Lipton and Speirs and says "You guys are petty as fuck."

They have the decency to look a little bit ashamed.

* * *

"So that's why my ass cheeks are not symmetrical"

"That's life-changing information, George."

"I know you like my ass, Bree. They even make this unflattering olive drab uniform looks good."

Bree makes a gaging sound accordingly. Vest throws a Hersey Bar to his head.

"So back to our topic," George continues "That black Nazi outfit is the sexiest military uniform to ever existed. Evil aside, I'd join just for the outfit."

George, Bree and Vest are taking inventory of the rations at the CP. And also gossiping. Or more accurately comparing the fashion supremacy of Nazi uniform (because apparently it was designed by Hugo Fucking Boss) that somehow expands to how George's butt cheeks were not symmetrical since circa high school era.

"I still can't believe Hugo Boss designed the uniforms though." Bree says. "It means that even the members of Hitler Youth are also decked out in Boss wear. It's like teaching children an early lesson in looking good whilst beating up minorities. Yeesh..." Bree shudders before she continues "In my time, Boss is like a staple fashion brand for every yuppie. Yuppie is shorts for young, urban, professional, by the way. No yuppie's wardrobe is complete without their standard Hugo Boss suit, Hugo Boss dress shirt, Hugo Boss tie, Hugo Boss sunglasses, Hugo Boss cologne, Hugo Boss man-thong and Hugo Boss socks to stuff the thong."

"What is a man-thong?" Vest asks.

"It's man's undies so skimpy that on the back side, the material covering the ass cheeks has completely disintegrated leaving only the elastic band remaining. When exposed, the view from behind, to unwitting observer, appears like the wearer is sporting a dental floss on his ass. It's as nasty as plumber's crack, in my opinion."

It took several seconds for the boys to imagine it before they sprint to the bathroom to throw up.

"That's fucking gross, Bree!" George snaps when he and Vest back from their visit to the bathroom. Vest, innocent boy that he is, looks pale.

"My brain's scarred for life, Bree. How could you." Vest whines.

Bree cackles gleefully "You'll survive, Vest."

"Ugh…I just gonna go to Sergeant Lipton's room. He'll help me bleached this imagery from by brain." Vest says.

"Vest is not even legal to drink alcohol." George grouses when Vest is no longer in hearing distance. "You're an evil _evil_ woman."

"Yeah…it keeps me up all night." Bree says cheerfully.

"What's keep you up all night, Princess?" Johnny Martin asks, entering the room with Roy Cobb. Martin is having a serious case of resting-bitch-face, but he's actually fluffy at heart. Cobb, on the other hand, is a jerktastic little shit. Bree doesn't like Cobb.

"Maybe she's fancying herself _surrounded_ by us tough men? Ya know what I mean?" Cobb sneers, wiggling his eyebrows. See? Jerktastic. Little. Shit.

"Yeah…your mama told me it'll be truly _satisfying_ to be _surrounded_ by tough men. She talked about it like an expert." Bree says calmly. In another world, she would do the Z Snap thing right in his face.

"Shut your yap, Cobb. I believe your mama taught you how to speak nicely to a lady." Martin says, trying to hide his grins. "Hey George, I hear Webster is back."

"Yep. He's back. Squeaky clean, smells good, fluffy hair and as handsome as Price Charming. I swear to God he's growing more chest hair during rehab." George says.

Martin snorts "That rich ass college boy."

"I'm sure he's got his reasons." Bree says.

"Yeah…I bet chicken shit is one of it. What you got there, George?" Martin says.

"Rations. Hershey bars, Juicy Fruits, Lucky Strikes. You know…the essentials."

"O my God! Chocolate? Last time I eat chocolate is in Mourmelon." Martin sighs.

"Johnny, you're breaking my heart." George says dryly.

"Come on, George. Give me, l don't know…one...five bars?"

"Here" George throws him something "Juicy Fruit. Happy?" Martin is honest to God pouting.

"Movement report" Vest says to George when he's reentering the room "First Sergeant Lipton wants you to shoot into a house."

"With that new bazooka?"

"Yup."

"Nice" George grins maniacally (because apparently, blowing house with a bazooka is George's childhood dream). But his grin is short-lived because Martin and Coob keep begging him for chocolate bars.

"There's not enough!" George fends them off.

But then, enter Joe Liebgott shouting "Ooo…Hershey bars!" like a five years old that he is.

"Jesus!" George groans. Bree pats his head in commiseration.

"Who they for?"

"Not you."

"One bar." Because Joe is as pushy as a toddler in regards of chocolate.

George finally loses his shit "No! There's not enough to go around!"

* * *

'I got wounded ass' is now Frank's tagline.

Yup…Easy's resident midget ("I'd prefer Vertically Challenged, thank you very much!" "How about Mentally-Defective Simpleton?" And Frank head butts George.) is back, AWOL from the hospital as per tradition, and he use the sentence in every opportunity he got.

"But I got wounded ass." Frank whines for the twenty third times. Yeah. Bree counts.

"You said that shit one more time, and I'll decapitate you with my rusty bayonet." Joe spat.

"The fuck you're still upset for?" Frank pouts. "You won't cross the river for tonight's patrol. You'll only provide covering fire from this side."

"Yup. You should give a fruit basket as a thank you gift to Webster for that." Bree adds.

"Okay. One: That unnecessary patrol will still happen. So there's still potential for casualties. Two: I'd rather get shot in the ass on that blasted patrol than thank Webster."

"He talked to Captain Speirs so only one translator can join that patrol. And Speirs choose him." Bree explains.

Joe snorts "Are you sure he's not actually wanted to spare himself?"

Well…if he put it like that.

"Just give Webster a chance, Joe." Gene says calmly form his bunk bed. He's writing inventory report for Regimental Aid Station. "He's feeling bad already."

"Listen to our beloved Saint Eugene, Joe." Bree smirks at Gene's red face when he hears the compliment.

Joe huffs petulantly "I'll try, okay. In the name of unit cohesiveness. You want me to smack your teeth with my M1, Frank? I know SAT words, you dipshit. I read books."

"Comics" Frank corrects.

"Oh, fuck you, Frank. Anywho...Doc…another thing that bugs me…Why you're not coming with us? It's like a bad omen, you know. Every time you're not joining the patrol, there's shit happened." He then looks around for Babe and when he is sure that Babe is not in the room, he continues "Remember Julian at Bastogne? Babe is never the same rainbow kid after Julian died."

Gene sighs "We all different after Bastogne. It was hell. And I want to go with you guys, but I have to help Doctor Kent at Regimental Aid Station."

"So no Medic backup whatsoever on this side and on the patrol itself?" Frank asks "That's a big risk."

"That's the order though" Gene sigh. "But I'll be standing by at the Aid Station."

Joe nods even though it's clear that he's still not satisfied with the situation. But since when Easy got it in easy way? Pun definitely intended.

The solemnity of the situation is ruined because on whatever planet George must actually be from, it appears "I swear one of my balls has gotten bigger that the other," is an appropriate greeting when he's entering the room.

"FUCK'S SAKE…" Joe snaps "Put them away, you fucking crazy Portuguese!"

"I don't have them _out_ , Joe. Sheesh…There's a lady in the room and I still have manners, 'kay. Hey Doc, what do you think this is?" George says nonchalantly and pointing his general crotch area.

Gene legitimately hit his forehead repeatedly with his reports, look up to the ceiling as if screaming internally 'what is my life?' like a Tumblr girl, and takes several deep breaths before answers "As long as you don't pissing needles or have some fever, I think it's kinda normal for you, George."

"Obviously" Bree says in Severus Snape's extremely disdainful voice.

"You shameless motherfucker" Frank mumbles.

George shrugs innocently.

A/N: So..that's Ch 4. I hope it's worth the wait. And as usual, since English is not my native language and i have no beta reader, please bear with me if you found any mistakes. So please read, poke me if you find some mistakes and don't forget to leave your review. Cheers ^_^


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